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<title>Cigarettes by Count_OLoaf</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690835">Cigarettes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_OLoaf/pseuds/Count_OLoaf'>Count_OLoaf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dark Shadows (1966), Dark Shadows (1991), Dark Shadows (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:34:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_OLoaf/pseuds/Count_OLoaf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short moment of peace in the hard life of Willie Loomis</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cigarettes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From this vantage, the setting of the sun didn't seem so bad. </p><p>The last of the sun bled out on to the sea's horizon, churning the color of the blackening waves. Even the storm preparing itself on the edges of the ocean felt safe in the promise that it would be unnoticeable soon- under the cover of night. </p><p>The morning fog had subsided and the gaps between the forest trees had cleared. The terrace of the old house, still unrestored, showed its age in splintering wood and uncertain cast-iron railing. Willie didn't mind. </p><p>He lit his cigarette. </p><p>He didn't stop to watch the smoke dissipate into the evening air. </p><p>He waited. He had no other option. Soon, the fog would congeal itself into a dense grease on the forest floor below. Who was he to appreciate the clarity of the sky?</p><p>The color of the sea and sky moved, from pink, to orange, melding with the firey-red of his cigarette embers, and bled finally to blue, masking the horizon and the hiding the forest floor. </p><p>He had to go. There was no more time left. </p><p>Willie took one last breath of his cigarette and laid it, still burning, on the terrace rails. </p><p>As he descended the steps down and down into the basement, a gust of wind knocked the cigarette down, carrying it to the foggy forest floor below.</p>
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